Viehschau

This is the time of year for the Alpabzugs of Switzerland, the traditional escorting of the cows down from the mountain pastures. It's important that the cows be brought down in the next few weeks: the snows are arriving in the mountains, and although the farmers always store a few days' worth of hay in their mountain huts, if the cows are caught in a blizzard, they generally end up needing to be helicopter-lifted down.

Whether the Alpabzug a family affair or a village-wide celebration, the event is very similar: families dress themselves in traditional garb and drape the cows with beautiful flowers and walk down the mountains, yodeling as they go. In fact, the festivals are quite a lot like the Alpine assent that we got to see on Rigi Staffel.

As much fun as it would have been to see a traditional Alpabzug, most of the festivals take about three hours to get to; at Susannah's suggestion, we decided to see the cows in a different, but equally traditional, seasonal venue: a Viehschau, or a cattle show, which was conveniently happening a ten-minute bus ride from our house, in Albisrieden.

In Switzerland, the majority of beauty pageants are for cows: the best of the approximately 100 cows on display at this particular Viehschau would take proudly take home the title of Miss Albisrieden.  There were a few subcategories on which the cows were judged as well, like best milker. The cows were taken, about ten at a time, and paraded around a sawdust ring in front of the Albisrieden church.

And, for the rest of the time, they were tethered along the edge of the street, for our consideration.

The kids' impressions of the cow-show were narrow and lasting: tonight, when I asked Joey what his favorite part of the show was, he gleefully announced "Cow go poop!" Really, all of the kids were a little fixated on the manure. Alex declared that what they really should be doing was having a contest for the best-smelling cow.

Joey was the most willing to forgive the cows for the call of nature: he deeply understands, I suppose, that when you've gotta go, you've gotta go.  Anyway, he was the only kid enthusiastic about joining me next to the ring to watch some of the judging.  He sat on my lap and wisely pointed out the "good, good cows."  In every group, they ranked every single cow, not just judging the top three, but rather judging them from best to all the way down to worst.

First-place ribbons are white in Switzerland, apparently.  That there
is a very fine, first-place cow.

They had an master of ceremonies in the ring, talking throughout the judging, commenting on criteria and generally educating the audience. In that spirit, they paraded a bull around the ring as well, and the MC gave a little talk on the characteristic of what makes a good specimen. Joey was a huge fan of the "big, big bull cow."

Alex and Mr. Bull

They also had a couple of children, wreathed in flowers, come into the ring and display their little calves. The merchants rewarded these kids by piling them with treats from their stalls: a jar of honey, a little bag of dried apples, a cheese.

The Swiss are willing to wait quite a long
time for a sausage.

But this event was as much about bringing the neighborhood together as it was about the livestock.  The picnic tables were full by the time we arrived at 10:00, with neighbors sitting with their beers and settling in to talk the day away.

Unfortunately, that meant we had to find other places to eat our snacks. Some of the women of the town were holding a bake sale, and we bought pieces of tart (lemon-almond: delicious!) and brownies and cakes for us all and ate them perched on the edge of a fountain.

And for lunch I stood in the incredibly long Schlange (or line, or "snake") for the grill, where they were rapidly serving out the ever-available cervelat and bratwurst sausages and, as a nod to the occasion, steak sandwiches, as well.

While Joey and I were watching the cows, Dennis and the other kids went exploring the Albisrieen Ortsmuseum, or "local museum," the equivalent of an American historical society building.  Dennis took them through all four stories of the old barn, which was crammed with antique curiosities: military uniforms and weapons, daily wear, toys, kitchen appliances, furniture.



After running through the museum, the kids passed the time on a swing hanging from the barn rafters until Joey and I caught up, and then we had our little picnic on a bench in the shadow of the museum, where our friends Daniel and Caroline joined us.

Before leaving, we took in the rest of the offerings at the show: the Marktstände, where we bought some honey-derived cough drops and some fresh apple cider, some pears and some carrots, and a picture for my bedroom wall made out of pressed flowers.

And there was also the
Alphornbläser

And the Schwingen für Jung und Alt

And then we left in time to go to a local ice creamery that we'd been wanting to try, where the kids finished their meal and Dennis and I bought the best bread that we've had to date.

Sandwiches at the ice cream
shop.  It's different here: sand-
wiches are either a large, filled
baguette, split down the center,
and filled with meat, or, just
as often, these canape-style
open-faced sandwiches. Raw-
ground beef (or steak tartar, as
you prefer, is a common
topping)

Alex, finishing his ice cream as we wait for the tram

That was quite enough of a day for Ella and Dennis, who spent the rest of it at home, but the boys were restless, and so they and I rode our scooters to the playground for some more fresh air and sunshine.  One the way home, Alex rigged our street's drinking fountain to make a rainbow, and he humbly requested that I share this photo with you.